What a Vacation
by Hornswaggler
Summary: Very short little one-shot. Ford and Arthur's vacation isn't going as planned.


**Author's Note: I'd like to say quickly; This entire thing was a dream I had. Literally. I added details, but the dialogue is pretty much spot on. (Ford's last line is by far my favorite.) ^^ It may have come from reading H2G2 until two in the morning...but I wrote it down as soon as I got up.**

**Hope ya like it!**

The rain was fairly steady, landing with a half-hearted _plop _any time it hit a puddle. The cars that sped along the road didn't seem to mind it in the least bit; on the contrary, they rather enjoyed flinging sheets of water across the shoulder before zooming off, the passengers inside glancing behind in a rather puzzled way. They were never quite sure, but each had the notion that there _may _have been two rather sodden figures that were caught in soaking. Being very intent on making it as quickly as they could to point B, however, the notion was quickly discarded. Only one car actually took the time to stop, pulling onto the shoulder that was now completely flooded with a small river. The water itself seemed very intent on making it to its own point B, which happened to be a larger river that ran swiftly away to yet _another _point B below the bridge that was a few yards away. Making sure his umbrella was firmly in one hand, the policeman stepped out of the car, wincing as the rain disregarded the fact that he would rather stay dry. Marching as smartly as he could with his water full of shoes, he cut across the path of the two sodden figures, who apparently did exist, contrary to the previous belief. They weren't abut to win any awards for best dressed, that was an obvious fact. One had the elbows and knees torn out of everything, and what wasn't ripped was stained beyond recognition. The other was wearing his pajamas with a bath robe tossed over them. Each man seemed to have traveled for years, and now they were plodding along side the road, half-heartedly attempting to wave down cars as they passed. The policeman raised one eyebrow at the two as they stopped and raised eyebrows at him. The silence pounded on three sets of ears for a minute or so before the uniformed man broke it.

"I'm sorry fellas, you can't be hitchhiking in this area," he stated, struggling to keep the useless umbrella in his grasp as a wind picked up. "There's a state prison about ten miles back, and though I doubt you two have escaped…" He trailed off, looking them over again before continuing. "I'll have to take you up to the station to make sure."

Ford Prefect, for that was indeed the man with the stubbornly ripped clothing, gave a heavy sigh, turning to his companion. "I'm sure we won't mind, would we Arthur? It would at least get us a bit further along." He looked back to the policeman, glancing at his nametag to avoid the awkward introductions. "We appreciate it, Evans, but would _you _mind if we just finish our lunch first? I'd like to glance at the map, see how far we've got." Though Evans did seem to mind, he shrugged.

"I guess that would be fine…I'll have to join you, I'm afraid, so why don't we find somewhere rather…drier?" He shivered as another blast of wind fought for custody of the umbrella, then motioned toward the bridge, which was conveniently a covered one. "That's better than nothing, eh? I apologize, but I'd rather not get the inside of my car soaked at the moment." Ford returned the shrug and set off for the shelter of the wooden roof.

"We've seen worse cover…and don't worry about it man, Zahpod is the same way. Won't let us set foot on the bridge unless we're dry."

Evans blinked, then shook off the strange comment as they came onto the one-lane bridge that the rain had consented to stay out of. Ford and Arthur both sat down immediately, each beginning to rummage through the packs they carried. The policeman now stood by, forgotten for a moment. Arthur first pulled out a bright blue towel that bore large yellow stars, drying his hair quickly with it. He avoided his face, which wasn't too much of a surprise; the towel was filthy and fairly tattered, looking as if it had traveled half the country by itself. Ford's towel was no better, and even slightly worse if that were possible. You couldn't even tell the original color, stains covering the majority of the fabric. He didn't bother drying any part of himself with it, but ran it down the length of a plastic tube, quickly ridding the material of excess water and a fair bit of mud. As Arthur began fixing some haphazard sandwiches, Ford opened one end of the tube and pulled out a fairly large map. It was apparently laminated, because he set it down on the wet road with little care.

"Where are we then, Evans?" he asked quickly, glancing up at the man, who started slightly at suddenly being addressed.

"Well, Sunbury is about fifty miles to the east…If you're looking for a larger city, Harrisburg is to the south, I'd say a hundred miles or so…" He trailed off at the blank looks the two men gave him, Arthur frozen with a butter knife halfway to the bread.

Ford then sighed, unrolling his map. "No, I mean what country. Zaphod just told us he was dropping us off at Earth, he didn't specify…or he may not have known, for that matter, with the way he gets sometimes."

Evans blinked again, something he seemed to be doing more than usual lately. He stared at Ford, slightly unnerved by the fact that blinking seemed to no longer be necessary for the other man.

"Well…The U.S, of course," Evans said with some uncertainty. "Good heavens, man, how can you not know what country you're hitchhiking in? You're on the East Coast, it's a couple hundred miles to the Atlantic."

Arthur seemed to be the only one who knew what this meant, his eyes widening. "We're in the United States, then? Well, this is a bit further than we reckoned for, Ford. England is across the ocean, not over the hill like that idiot truck driver said." Leaning over to look at the map Ford was now reading, he added "It'll take us a while to get back, I'm expecting, unless someone's crazy enough to pass over this place."

Ford Prefect nodded, his finger running over some path on the map. "Yes, well leave it to Zaphod to drop us across an ocean…Well, it'll only set us back a year or so, I'd expect…not anything drastic. Look, I'm thinking we should swing by Betelgeuse once we get on the way. They have the best drinks, and I'd like to stop by and check in with my mum. See how many husbands she's gotten through since I left." Arthur shrugged, leaning back again and tearing into his sandwich.

"Suit yourself. You're the one who knows the way around the place."

Evans blinked again, staring with more than a little confusion at the two. "Betelgeuse?" he echoed. "That a city in England, then?" Ford chuckled, shaking his head.

"Nah, it's just about six light years across the galaxy. We just have to get _back _to England to meet our ride."

More blinking. The policeman kneeled down, ignoring the water seeping into his pants as he looked at the map on the ground. It was very complex, that was obvious…but rather than showing oceans, cities, or countries, it seemed to show…stars. Hundreds of them. Some had scribbled writing across them, others check marks, and some had been crossed out. Evans noted that the dot labeled Earth had been scribbled out completely, then an attempt was made to erase the marks leaving a rather blotchy area on the paper. He looked back up at Ford, eyes wide.

"This is…this is a map of the galaxy then?" he stammered. Ford nodded in the affirmative.

"Oh yeah. It's a bit outdated now, of course. I'll have to pick up another one in Betelgeuse." Taking the sandwich offered him, he bit ravenously into it, swallowed the bite with some difficulty, then stood. Rolling up his map, he slipped it back into the plastic tube and stuffed that into the pack around his shoulders. Throwing the decrepit towel on top, he pulled the bag shut, then turned to the policeman again. "So, how far are east are you going?"

Evans shook his head, pushing himself to his feet. "Look, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you two to a doctor somewhere…I don't want you wandering around getting yourselves hurt." Arthur, having to jog to catch up to the pair as they walked back toward the parked car, rolled his eyes.

"This seems to happen a lot, doesn't it?" he muttered, shrugging his pack further up his back. "Why is no one ever happy to see us?" Ford sighed, stopping at the edge of the road, staring at the river for a moment.

"Look, Evans, we just need to get to England," he stated. "Zaphod said he'd meet us there in two years after he ran some errands in Andromeda. Knowing that stupid ship of his, it could be three years or it could be a few months. The _Heart of Gold _doesn't seem to run on the same measurement of time we do. Just take us to whatever town you're going to, we'll go on from there."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir," Evans told him, his 'strict policeman' attitude flipped back on. "We'll find you a nice place, get some tests run. If you are indeed sane, you can be on your way within a month. If not…" He trailed off as the two men exchanged looks. Ford glanced up at the sky once, then sighed.

"Hey, Arthur, you ever heard of Ford Prefect before?" he asked his companion, taking a tight hold on his pack. Arthur shrugged in a nonchalant way.

"In passing. Why, what happened to him?"

"He spent his vacation trying to avoid stupid policemen who don't believe the truth when they hear it," Ford said, then, with a rather cheery wave, did an impressive leap off of the side of the bridge, diving neatly into the river below. Arthur shrugged, grabbing the straps of his bag and looking back at Evans, who now had a completely shocked look across his face.

"Pity, that. Poor guy was the most honest man I know…with some occasional exceptions, of course." He gave a smart salute to the stunned man before following his companion, though his exit wasn't quite as fancy.

Evans blinked once more, his hand halfway to his radio. Then, making up his mind quickly, he turned and splashed back to his car, muttering. "Why don't I ever get the _normal whackos?"_


End file.
